Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Death/Rebirth
“Sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from your own ashes and believe in yourself and love yourself to become a new person.”
― Gerard Way
**********
So, I experienced a break-up recently and we had the typical conversation about remaining friends where we said we'd both like to but neither of us were sure it was possible. When I got the final e-mail telling me that no, he's not capable of being friends with me, I cried, of course. The death of a relationship always brings with it a level of mourning. The first thought that occurred to my brain when I woke up the next morning was a quote from Louis C.K.
"No happy marriage ever ended in divorce."
The same is true for any level of relationship. If the relationship were happy, truly happy, it wouldn't end. Except in death (of a person). Any other kind of death of a relationship only occurs when it is not a happy relationship. It could have been happy at one point in time, but it no longer is when it dies.
And what I realized next was my OMG moment:
Every time one of my relationships has ended, I've been propelled forward into the next stage of my life. So it's not even the death of a relationship, it's the death of a life cycle. Perhaps this is why we mourn so hard. We know we're moving from a place where we will never return in our lives and most of the time, we're not quite prepared.
**********
Several months ago, I was explaining to one of my partners about how hurt I get when people leave me and he asked me a simple question, "Why?" I responded, "Why, what?" He asked, "Why do you get hurt?" My initial gut reaction was "WTF? Why would I not be hurt?
For me, almost every relationship I've ever had ended was ended by the other person. People are constantly leaving me. Each time I question, "Why? What did I do? What's wrong with me?" Fortunately, this time, I'm sure it had nothing to do with me. I was clear with this person start to finish and not a single person who knows me can say, "Well, Andrea....there's this one thing you did..."
This situation and having lots of honest folks around who'd call me on my b.s. if I was mucking the stuff has caused me to realize that ALL of the people who've walked out of my life have done so because of something going on with THEM. Whether their issues had something to do with me or not, none of them have been issues with ME. What I mean by that is, there's nothing wrong with me. And there's nothing I could have done differently to prevent any of those people from choosing what they chose.
And now I realize exactly why I wouldn't be hurt. Hurt comes from the thinking there's something wrong. Hurt comes from the mourning and the lack of acceptance of the death, that the death is good and right and natural.
Now instead, I find acceptance. I find acceptance and willingness for this death of a life cycle. I have grown into a new person. This new person is tired of having relationships with people who can't stand on their own two feet or see the world clearly. Tired of fighting people's perceptions of myself and the rest of the world. These relationships cause me emotional turmoil and cause me to question my sanity. Gone are the days where this girl cries when someone leaves her. I have realized that everyone who has ever left me has abused me in one way or another. Why would I mourn the loss of that? Having that leave my life is not sad.
I also find awareness. Awareness that I am transitioning into a new being. This relationship death came while I was on vacation with my family. I was driving, as I always do on vacations and I observed after this death that I had not sped egregiously the entire trip. I made liberal use of the cruise control set at exactly 10mph over the speed limit--at the most! Anyone who knows me, knows this is an extreme change for me, ordinarily I am a speed demon. But that is not ordinary for me anymore.
Who I was as a person was lit on fire and razed to the ground. Like a phoenix, I rise from the ashes, a new bird, ready to take on the next stage of my life.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Collecting Children
In my last post, I indicated I would later discuss at length how and why it is I end up with so many of other people's children as members of my family. This is a topic I've been planning to write on for a while and one that comes up often as I tend to be a magnet for children. In fact, as anyone who knows me already knows, my children ARE other people's children. I didn't give birth to them, I met them when they were 4, 3, and 1.
As one of my partners puts it, I tend to collect children. It's not that I view children as objects, quite the contrary in fact. Children are just as naturally drawn to me as I to them. For me, I love to be around children. Children of any age, even my own teenagers making their slip-start ascents into adulthood which send most people running and screaming are pleasing for me and I like to be surrounded by their energy.
Children have this way of viewing the world that adults simply don't have.
When I was a teenager, somewhere around fifteen to sixteen years of age, I began to realize that adults--on the whole--simply couldn't see the world the way a child could. The way that--at that point, I still could--though, I was also aware that I was losing it.
That thought horrified me.
I decided right there and then that I would NEVER forget what it was like to be a kid. That divide I felt between my parents and I. How I felt like the adult world simply didn't understand who I was or what I was going through. Will Smith even had a song about it, "Parents Just Don't Understand." And I resolved that when I was an adult, when I became a parent, I would remember what it was like to be a kid. And then I started right that instant. I started by objectively observing what I and my peers were experiencing. I started observing children. And I continued doing the one thing I had always done...regarding every person I came across as an equal, regardless of their age.
One thing I had to learn about was child development. I recall the number of times throughout my adolescence I was startled to learn that a younger person wasn't capable of x or y task. I hadn't previously been aware of my own development and since I treated everyone as equal, I just assumed everyone could do what I could do. So, I learned that's not how the world works. I learned that people develop at varying rates and then there are some general markers--things to generally be acceptably learned at this age or that--but there are exceptions even to those.
With this new information in mind as I grew into an adult, I started relating to young people. Even when I couldn't really relate. And around nineteen or twenty, I started noticing my way of being had an impact on children I interacted with:
I was in the mall one day, descending an escalator when I heard a shriek of, "Andrea! Andrea!" and found two little blond girls tearing toward me.
I didn't recognize them. AT ALL.
As one leapt into my arms and I instinctively caught her, I looked up to see her mother rushing in to say hello. Oh! These were the daughters of the owner of the Dairy Queen I worked at at my very first job. I couldn't even remember their names. It had been four or five years since I had seen them and I had barely interacted with them then.
Their mother says to me, "The girls have been asking me about you periodically since you left the store."
"Melinda, that was like five years ago!"
"I know! You must have really made an impression on them."
As I racked my brain for how I could have made an impression, all I could recall was sitting and listening to them. When I was on my lunch breaks, if they were there (maybe four or five times?), I would sit and talk to them. They would tell me whatever was on their minds, what they were doing at school, etc. All I did was listen and respond like they were equals, as I always did with everyone I met.
It was many years later before it dawned on me why this made such an impression on a four-year-old and a six-year-old.
And now we come back to why I love children so much. They see the world with a level of purity that adults simply can't any longer see. Children are unafraid and unabashed at being joyful, loving, and kind. They prance along with reckless abandon when something makes them happy and throw their arms around those they love with grand gestures of caring.
Part of my resolution back then in my teen years was to never lose my sense of child-like wonder when viewing the world. This is so much easier said than done. Everything I come across in my day-to-day life as an adult threatens to steal away that perspective on the world. Even my boyfriends are sure that some day I will grow cynical. For the time being, I remain immune.
Children are, for the most part, my vaccinations against cynicism. Like booster shots, they keep my mental/emotional immune system strong and healthy. I'm frequently told I wear rose-colored glasses. Perhaps I'm not the one wearing something that obscures my vision, though. Perhaps cynicism is the real obstruction. Gray tinted glasses that make the world look bleak.
And children love to spend time with an adult who treats them as an equal, laughs at utter silliness, gazes open-mouthed at wondrous things, and does happy dances and throws her arms wide to catch them in greetings.
As one of my partners puts it, I tend to collect children. It's not that I view children as objects, quite the contrary in fact. Children are just as naturally drawn to me as I to them. For me, I love to be around children. Children of any age, even my own teenagers making their slip-start ascents into adulthood which send most people running and screaming are pleasing for me and I like to be surrounded by their energy.
Children have this way of viewing the world that adults simply don't have.
When I was a teenager, somewhere around fifteen to sixteen years of age, I began to realize that adults--on the whole--simply couldn't see the world the way a child could. The way that--at that point, I still could--though, I was also aware that I was losing it.
That thought horrified me.
I decided right there and then that I would NEVER forget what it was like to be a kid. That divide I felt between my parents and I. How I felt like the adult world simply didn't understand who I was or what I was going through. Will Smith even had a song about it, "Parents Just Don't Understand." And I resolved that when I was an adult, when I became a parent, I would remember what it was like to be a kid. And then I started right that instant. I started by objectively observing what I and my peers were experiencing. I started observing children. And I continued doing the one thing I had always done...regarding every person I came across as an equal, regardless of their age.
One thing I had to learn about was child development. I recall the number of times throughout my adolescence I was startled to learn that a younger person wasn't capable of x or y task. I hadn't previously been aware of my own development and since I treated everyone as equal, I just assumed everyone could do what I could do. So, I learned that's not how the world works. I learned that people develop at varying rates and then there are some general markers--things to generally be acceptably learned at this age or that--but there are exceptions even to those.
With this new information in mind as I grew into an adult, I started relating to young people. Even when I couldn't really relate. And around nineteen or twenty, I started noticing my way of being had an impact on children I interacted with:
I was in the mall one day, descending an escalator when I heard a shriek of, "Andrea! Andrea!" and found two little blond girls tearing toward me.
I didn't recognize them. AT ALL.
As one leapt into my arms and I instinctively caught her, I looked up to see her mother rushing in to say hello. Oh! These were the daughters of the owner of the Dairy Queen I worked at at my very first job. I couldn't even remember their names. It had been four or five years since I had seen them and I had barely interacted with them then.
Their mother says to me, "The girls have been asking me about you periodically since you left the store."
"Melinda, that was like five years ago!"
"I know! You must have really made an impression on them."
As I racked my brain for how I could have made an impression, all I could recall was sitting and listening to them. When I was on my lunch breaks, if they were there (maybe four or five times?), I would sit and talk to them. They would tell me whatever was on their minds, what they were doing at school, etc. All I did was listen and respond like they were equals, as I always did with everyone I met.
It was many years later before it dawned on me why this made such an impression on a four-year-old and a six-year-old.
And now we come back to why I love children so much. They see the world with a level of purity that adults simply can't any longer see. Children are unafraid and unabashed at being joyful, loving, and kind. They prance along with reckless abandon when something makes them happy and throw their arms around those they love with grand gestures of caring.
Part of my resolution back then in my teen years was to never lose my sense of child-like wonder when viewing the world. This is so much easier said than done. Everything I come across in my day-to-day life as an adult threatens to steal away that perspective on the world. Even my boyfriends are sure that some day I will grow cynical. For the time being, I remain immune.
Children are, for the most part, my vaccinations against cynicism. Like booster shots, they keep my mental/emotional immune system strong and healthy. I'm frequently told I wear rose-colored glasses. Perhaps I'm not the one wearing something that obscures my vision, though. Perhaps cynicism is the real obstruction. Gray tinted glasses that make the world look bleak.
And children love to spend time with an adult who treats them as an equal, laughs at utter silliness, gazes open-mouthed at wondrous things, and does happy dances and throws her arms wide to catch them in greetings.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Who I AM...only the strong need apply
Recent major changes to my relationships have forced me into very serious considerations of myself and my life. I was beginning to contemplate myself, where I'm going, what I'm doing, but this shock forced me to take a cold hard look at me.
Probably the biggest realization I had was over dinner the other night and this one was a slap in the face. I had--for the third time in as many years--gotten myself into a situation where I was working so hard to help someone else grow that I was not growing myself. Now, that's not AT ALL, but my growth was slowed and it was only coming in spurts, because I had so much of my energy and attention focused elsewhere. This is an easy trap for me to fall into, because who I AM is someone who helps others. Helps others to grow, to love, to see the world from a perspective that just feels good.
Let's break this down: Who I AM, who I BE, the path that I'm on, the one that feels yucky to stray from, is to change the world. To-through my love and light-show people there's a different way of living. Life doesn't have to proceed the way you were taught. It doesn't have to go the way society tells you it ought to.
It is perfectly okay to love yourself, your spouse, your children, your friends, your family, and everyone you know in a whole, complete, and unabashed manner.
It is perfectly okay to pursue whatever lights you on fire, no matter how much money you make at it and no matter what society at large thinks of you for pursuing it.
It is perfectly okay to be happy, live your life out loud, do a happy dance when something lights you up, to take joy in the little things just as much as--if not more than--the big things.
And there's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing there that needs to change, because that's just WHO I AM.
But. There is something that needs to change.
Because of my perspective, because I live against the societal grain, because I've always thought and seen the world this way, I've become a very strong person. One of the strongest people I know. In fact, for the longest time, I WAS the strongest person I knew, there was no one that came close by a wide margin.
Now? I know two people who are just as strong as I am. One who I'm certain is stronger. Both of these are my partners.
And this is what I've discovered needs to change. The trap I've fallen into multiple times is attempting to have as a partner someone whose strength is much less than my own. When attempting to partner with someone who is not on par with you in any aspect, tensions can arise. We're all adults here so tensions don't have to mean that a relationship is unsustainable.
But for me, the person who is strong and loves to help others; well, I tend to get myself into situations that require a lot of strength. For me, in partnerships, only the strong need apply. It's like the adage, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen."
This girl generates a lot of heat--so folks with fainting spells just don't belong in my kitchen.
That being said, because I am who I am: I will continue to love and assist in the growth of those who can't stand to be in my kitchen. I have many wonderful friends who for one reason or another will never be in my kitchen, but that doesn't mean that I don't love, honor, and respect who they are.
Probably the biggest realization I had was over dinner the other night and this one was a slap in the face. I had--for the third time in as many years--gotten myself into a situation where I was working so hard to help someone else grow that I was not growing myself. Now, that's not AT ALL, but my growth was slowed and it was only coming in spurts, because I had so much of my energy and attention focused elsewhere. This is an easy trap for me to fall into, because who I AM is someone who helps others. Helps others to grow, to love, to see the world from a perspective that just feels good.
Let's break this down: Who I AM, who I BE, the path that I'm on, the one that feels yucky to stray from, is to change the world. To-through my love and light-show people there's a different way of living. Life doesn't have to proceed the way you were taught. It doesn't have to go the way society tells you it ought to.
It is perfectly okay to love yourself, your spouse, your children, your friends, your family, and everyone you know in a whole, complete, and unabashed manner.
It is perfectly okay to pursue whatever lights you on fire, no matter how much money you make at it and no matter what society at large thinks of you for pursuing it.
It is perfectly okay to be happy, live your life out loud, do a happy dance when something lights you up, to take joy in the little things just as much as--if not more than--the big things.
And there's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing there that needs to change, because that's just WHO I AM.
But. There is something that needs to change.
Because of my perspective, because I live against the societal grain, because I've always thought and seen the world this way, I've become a very strong person. One of the strongest people I know. In fact, for the longest time, I WAS the strongest person I knew, there was no one that came close by a wide margin.
Now? I know two people who are just as strong as I am. One who I'm certain is stronger. Both of these are my partners.
And this is what I've discovered needs to change. The trap I've fallen into multiple times is attempting to have as a partner someone whose strength is much less than my own. When attempting to partner with someone who is not on par with you in any aspect, tensions can arise. We're all adults here so tensions don't have to mean that a relationship is unsustainable.
But for me, the person who is strong and loves to help others; well, I tend to get myself into situations that require a lot of strength. For me, in partnerships, only the strong need apply. It's like the adage, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen."
This girl generates a lot of heat--so folks with fainting spells just don't belong in my kitchen.
That being said, because I am who I am: I will continue to love and assist in the growth of those who can't stand to be in my kitchen. I have many wonderful friends who for one reason or another will never be in my kitchen, but that doesn't mean that I don't love, honor, and respect who they are.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
On Receiving Flowers
Everyone knows that women love to receive flowers, except this woman, well, sometimes, maybe...
Perhaps it started in childhood, with my mother not having a good man around, she never got flowers. I know she loved them, though.
I think more likely that it started in my teens. I was living with my father and it was around Valentine's Day, we were commenting on all the flowers that were purchased for the day and he said, "I ought to get you flowers and have them sent to school, so you know I love you." My heart began to swell with the feeling of being loved when he said, "No. Wait. That's your boyfriend's job." "But I don't have a boyfriend, Dad." "That's my point, Andrea, you need to get one."
I had explained to him many times my feelings on dating in high school. I thought the whole enterprise was stupid and pointless. I watched other girls get into relationships, swear they were in love, break up a few months later and be heartbroken, then fall in love again with some other boy. I had heard time and time again that kids were foolish and couldn't possibly fall in love. Recognizing that I was a kid, I decided I would wait until I was an adult and then date.
Fast forward a year or two, I'm now 18 and at society's prescribed adulthood age. So I start dating. I decide (because I'm still a kid) I'm in love with the second guy I date and the issue of flowers comes up one day. We've already combined finances and so I tell him to not ever buy me flowers because I think they're a waste of money...they just die within a few days. A couple days later, he gives me a rose he drew (he knew they were my favorite) as a kind of "Ha! I can still give you flowers!" And that was the end of the subject between he and I.
Fast forward another 13 years and he and I have divorced. I find myself a single adult and in the position to date again. I've realized that I *would* like to receive flowers sometimes as I see them as an expression of love. My dear, sweet daughter buys me flowers for Mother's Day. I thank her and tell her it's not the same, but I very much appreciate it (knock my parenting later). At a random later juncture, she gets me flowers again and I cry and thank her. I then tell her that I wish I had a boy who would do the same.
Fast forward another year or so. I have 3 boyfriends and not a single one has gotten me flowers. I'm not upset at any one of them, but I do sometimes wish they would think to do it.
Now we're up to last night. I'm telling Boyfriend 1 about a stalker I had and how this guy had presented me with a single long-stem rose on our second date and how I'm still irritated that the only guy who's ever gotten me flowers turned out to be a creep. BF1 says, "I'm sorry honey, I don't do flowers." I said, "Eh, whatever I don't need them, it's okay."
So then, as I'm getting ready for bed, I'm mulling this over, "Shit, chick, make up your mind! Which the fuck is it?" And then it dawns on me...I'm staring at my dresser where sits a little Darth Vader that BF1 presented to me on Valentine's Day just before he headed out of town for two weeks. And I swelled with that feeling of being loved and I realized exactly what it is that I want.
Seeing women presented with flowers is seeing them being loved. I don't actually need to receive any thing to feel loved. In fact, I make it quite clear to my men and to my family that I don't like being given things. BUT I do like being thought of. When BF1 brought me the Darth Vader he said it was to keep me company while he was out of town. It's not the thing he gave me, it's that realization that he thought of me and would miss me while he was away. And I realized he has given me flowers. Because he's done for me exactly what flowers mean to me. And then, in thinking on it, all of my boyfriends have given me flowers. Those random little texts in the middle of the day, to tell me they miss me or they're thinking of me...I get flowers ALL THE TIME.
So, to my men and to my family: I love you and thank you for all the flowers you've given me. I realize now that what I wanted so desperately I already had and just had to pull my head outta my ass to see it.
Perhaps it started in childhood, with my mother not having a good man around, she never got flowers. I know she loved them, though.
I think more likely that it started in my teens. I was living with my father and it was around Valentine's Day, we were commenting on all the flowers that were purchased for the day and he said, "I ought to get you flowers and have them sent to school, so you know I love you." My heart began to swell with the feeling of being loved when he said, "No. Wait. That's your boyfriend's job." "But I don't have a boyfriend, Dad." "That's my point, Andrea, you need to get one."
I had explained to him many times my feelings on dating in high school. I thought the whole enterprise was stupid and pointless. I watched other girls get into relationships, swear they were in love, break up a few months later and be heartbroken, then fall in love again with some other boy. I had heard time and time again that kids were foolish and couldn't possibly fall in love. Recognizing that I was a kid, I decided I would wait until I was an adult and then date.
Fast forward a year or two, I'm now 18 and at society's prescribed adulthood age. So I start dating. I decide (because I'm still a kid) I'm in love with the second guy I date and the issue of flowers comes up one day. We've already combined finances and so I tell him to not ever buy me flowers because I think they're a waste of money...they just die within a few days. A couple days later, he gives me a rose he drew (he knew they were my favorite) as a kind of "Ha! I can still give you flowers!" And that was the end of the subject between he and I.
Fast forward another 13 years and he and I have divorced. I find myself a single adult and in the position to date again. I've realized that I *would* like to receive flowers sometimes as I see them as an expression of love. My dear, sweet daughter buys me flowers for Mother's Day. I thank her and tell her it's not the same, but I very much appreciate it (knock my parenting later). At a random later juncture, she gets me flowers again and I cry and thank her. I then tell her that I wish I had a boy who would do the same.
Fast forward another year or so. I have 3 boyfriends and not a single one has gotten me flowers. I'm not upset at any one of them, but I do sometimes wish they would think to do it.
Now we're up to last night. I'm telling Boyfriend 1 about a stalker I had and how this guy had presented me with a single long-stem rose on our second date and how I'm still irritated that the only guy who's ever gotten me flowers turned out to be a creep. BF1 says, "I'm sorry honey, I don't do flowers." I said, "Eh, whatever I don't need them, it's okay."
So then, as I'm getting ready for bed, I'm mulling this over, "Shit, chick, make up your mind! Which the fuck is it?" And then it dawns on me...I'm staring at my dresser where sits a little Darth Vader that BF1 presented to me on Valentine's Day just before he headed out of town for two weeks. And I swelled with that feeling of being loved and I realized exactly what it is that I want.
Seeing women presented with flowers is seeing them being loved. I don't actually need to receive any thing to feel loved. In fact, I make it quite clear to my men and to my family that I don't like being given things. BUT I do like being thought of. When BF1 brought me the Darth Vader he said it was to keep me company while he was out of town. It's not the thing he gave me, it's that realization that he thought of me and would miss me while he was away. And I realized he has given me flowers. Because he's done for me exactly what flowers mean to me. And then, in thinking on it, all of my boyfriends have given me flowers. Those random little texts in the middle of the day, to tell me they miss me or they're thinking of me...I get flowers ALL THE TIME.
So, to my men and to my family: I love you and thank you for all the flowers you've given me. I realize now that what I wanted so desperately I already had and just had to pull my head outta my ass to see it.
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